Don't Trust Me
by hairsprayheart
Summary: They said that they liked the Glee Club because singing songs made them feel better about their own sorry lives; because it was all fake. GLEE drabbles about everyone affected by the new club. No slash.


**Don't Trust Me**

A _Glee_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

_They said that they liked the Glee Club because singing songs made them feel better about their own sorry lives; because it was all fake._

* * *

"There is no way we are doing this song."

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. Schue. Please."

Will Schuester sighed as he looked down at Artie. This just wasn't fair. The poor kid had spent his whole life trying to be cool when he really wasn't. But God knew he couldn't say no to a kid in a wheelchair.

"Don't worry, Mr. Schuester," Rachel piped up. "Carmel did _Rehab_ and the judges didn't mind a bit."

"That's because they're Carmel," Finn muttered under his breath.

Thankfully – for Rachel and Artie – their teacher did not hear.

"That's true," he conceded. "But the lyrics are pretty iffy. I mean, 'Don't trust a… _ho_'? And all of the sexual references… Even comparing love to a drug isn't _that_ bad."

"We can pull it off," Mercedes promised. "If it takes extra practice, even. I can fit it in."

"Y-y-you always s-say it's the s-singing, not the s-s-song," Tina added.

Schuester bit his lip as he considered this. The kids had a point. And he knew that if they didn't enjoy what they were doing, they wouldn't be able to make it work.

"All right," he finally said. "But if this doesn't work, we'll suffer for it the rest of the year. And we're doing _Can You Feel the Love Tonight_ instead."

Finn moaned.

"There is no way I'm doing a Disney song," he stated.

"That's really suffering," Mercedes agreed.

"It's a classic," Rachel said defensively, but everyone knew that their first choice was the best one.

Artie stroked his guitar experimentally and looked around at his companions. "Well, what are we waiting for? The competition's in two weeks!"

Schuester held up his watch and cast the group an apologetic glance. "All right, guys, I gotta get going. My wife said she needed me home by 4."

"Bye, Mr. Schue," the group chorused.

You can't blame him for smiling as he ran out the door.

* * *

  
"Terri? What's the big—"

"Billy! Good to see ya!"

Before he knew what was going on, Will found himself being sideswiped by his overenthusiastic father while his wife just looked on.

"Surprise," she said weakly.

"Oh, William, we heard the big news!" Will's mom had also appeared to hug her son (more tenderly than his father had). She waved the paper in his face, and found that a picture of himself was grinning back.

"Wow," he managed. "I didn't know it was in the newspaper."

"Honey, you were a big star in high school," his mother reminded him, folding the paper and returning it to her purse. "Of course it's in the newspaper!"

Terri gave him a thin smile – the Glee Club was still a touchy topic between them, but he was thankful she was at least acting happy for him.

"So, what else has been going on in your life?" Schuester Senior boomed, clapping Will on the back. "We got a grandbaby on the way yet?"

"Actually—" (here Will purposefully avoided the panicked looks his wife threw at him, hoping the hesitation would add to the dramatic effect), "we do."

For a moment, the room was silent as everyone took this in. Then Will's mother let out a piercing shriek and threw her arms around Terri. "Oh my God! Why didn't you tell us? You're gonna be parents! We're gonna be _grand_parents!"

Will beamed and looked at his wife with obvious pride. The happiness did not appear returned.

"Ya nervous, sweetheart?" Bob Schuester took his daughter-in-law's hands, concerned.

She nodded wordlessly, seeming to be fighting tears.

"Oh, baby, it'll be okay," Will soothed her hastily, draping his arm over her shoulders and drawing her to his side. "You've got some great people to help you. It'll be okay!"

"I think I'm going to go lie down for a little while," Terri murmured. "The excitement must be getting to me."

"I'll be right back," Will said, going to help her up the stairs to their bedroom.

By the time he bounded up the stairs, he found that his wife was already in bed, and tears were flowing down her face.

"Terri? What's wrong, babe?"

In a futile attempt to make herself look presentable, Terri scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath and looked up at her husband through shining eyes.

"I-I lied to you, Will," she choked. "I'm not pregnant."

* * *

  
"All right, that was good, guys," Mercedes said. "But it's gotta be better if we want to beat Carmel." She passed a few glares at the group, just to make sure they got her point. "And we _do_."

"See you all tomorrow? Same time?" Rachel asked.

Everyone nodded their agreement. But the crowd was slow to disperse.

He slipped out of the performing arts center the fastest, half-hoping that Rachel would be waiting for him outside. To his surprise, Quinn was standing at his locker, her arms folded across her chest.

"Hey, babe," Finn greeted her, trying to look nonchalant as he leaned down for a less-than-chaste kiss.

Squirming away, Quinn asked in a bored tone, "So, how was _practice_?"

"Football? You know I only have that every other day," Finn reminded her pleasantly, "just like you and Cheerios. …What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Quinn retorted, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I had some stuff to do for Mr. Schuester," he replied breezily. "Didn't I tell you?"

"You didn't tell me that it was some gay _Glee _Club," Quinn snorted, obviously in disdain. "Since when can you sing? Or dance?"

Trapped, Finn backtracked mentally. "It's just to get my grade up, babe," he lied – again. Oh, how he hated lying. He had been doing it too often lately.

"It didn't look like it." Quinn was acting way too cool. "I _saw_ you dancing with her, Finn."

"Who?"

Quinn shook her head. Why did he have to date a smart cheerleader? Since when did those even exist?

"Your 'science partner'."

Finn's mouth worked like a fish's out of water, his mind racing to come up with an explanation when he knew a worthy one wasn't in existence.

"You've been lying to me," Quinn accused, her eyes flashing. "And for all I know, cheating on me, too."

"No, I swear to God—"

"Don't say that!" Quinn shrieked at him.

He looked at her in surprise, but she had visibly calmed down. He relaxed.

"Don't swear," she said sweetly. "It's using our Lord's name in vain."

"I'm sorry," he managed.

Quinn looked up at him, caressing his face with her hand. He hated how sad she looked.

"You like her, don't you?"

"No," Finn said. "No! I couldn't—"

"I'm sorry, Finn," she said. "It's just that I didn't know if I could still trust you."

She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips gently to his.

"Dinner at my house, okay?"

Finn swallowed hard as she sauntered away. He couldn't stand telling her that he had lied to her again.

* * *

  
"What now?"

"We could practice a little more," Rachel offered.

Kurt patted his throat defensively, shooting the prima donna a glare. "And strain my vocal chords? No thanks."

Mercedes looked at Kurt thoughtfully.

"I've got it – why don't we play a game?"

"What kind of game?" Artie asked, wary.

Tina grinned dangerously at her wheelchair-bound. "T-truth or d-dare!"

"For real?" Mercedes raised one eyebrow.

"Sounds all right to me," Kurt said.

"Okay, Tina, you suggested it – you go first," Rachel commanded.

The girl blinked twice. "Truth."

Since Artie was on her right, he was permitted to ask the question.

"Do you think I play the guitar well?"

"Th-that's easily. Yes."

Artie beamed.

"Truth for me, too."

"Why are you in that wheelchair, Artie?" Rachel asked, less than tactfully.

"I fell off my balcony," Artie answered. "Me and my brother were re-enacting Mario Brothers—"

"Mario Brothers?" Mercedes repeated incredulously.

"We were, like, four!"

"Moving on," Rachel announced hastily. "Truth."

Kurt smirked. "Do you like Finn?"

"What?" Rachel spluttered. "That's an unfair question. It's not like you can do anything to me if I don't answer, anyway. I have no reason to."

"Well, it's not like you have any reason not to, right?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"Fine. Maybe – a little bit. I mean, he's cute. Right?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "Dare," he muttered.

"I dare you to sing for us," Mercedes said.

"That's nothing," Kurt scoffed. He proceeded to belt out a few lines of _Seasons of Love_, to which everyone applauded politely.

Mercedes smiled confidently at Tina. "Dare."

"I dare you… to k-kiss Kurt."

Kurt looked at her in alarm, but Tina folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin a notch, daring him to defy her. Though everyone was suspicious of Kurt's homosexuality, no one had proved it. If he backed out, they would be able to. Though being gay was generally more accepted in the theater community, they _did_ live in a small town – they only confirmed gays were Rachel's dads – and Tina was genuinely curious.

"Fine," he snapped, gesturing impatiently for Mercedes to approach him.

Mercedes tilted her head up to Kurt's. He ducked and gave her a quick peck.

"Happy?" he groused, backing up immediately.

Tina nodded dumbly, and so did Mercedes – though she blushed profusely after realizing she did so.

"This is a boring game," Rachel said suddenly. "And I have stuff to do."

"Don't let us hold you up." Artie's friendly smile was only half-hearted; at this rate, he and Tina would be making out by next round.

"All right. Ta," Rachel warbled, hurrying out.

Kurt nudged the stage with his toe. "I should probably be going, too."

And their little meeting – just when they had been on the brink of a friendship (or more) – ended just as easily as it had begun.

* * *

  
"Will's going to be here soon, right?"

"Hmm?"

Ken Tanaka shook his head to clear the recent fantasy from it and looked more intently at his date, Emma Pillsbury. She had agreed to go to dinner with him when he mentioned the prospect of Will and Terri Schuester joining them.

Emma reached into her purse and withdrew her Purell for what seemed to be the fiftieth time in the past hour. She squeezed the little bottle savagely until the last few drops plopped into her hand. She took great care to massage it into her palms, over her knuckles, and between each finger. Ken looked at the creamy white skin, wishing he could hold that hand, and then back up into her distracted doe eyes.

"You know, you look – erm – beautiful tonight," he said quickly.

"Oh. Uh, thanks," Emma replied.

He loved how shy she was. Impulsively, he reached across the table and snatched her hand. She tensed and recoiled, looking away.

"Will _is_ coming, right?"

"You know, we could wait for him back at my place," Ken suggested, taking a swill of his wine glass and looking at her in a way that he hoped was seductive from over the top of it.

Emma bit her lip. She glanced around the room and then back at him.

"Okay."

* * *

  
"I can't believe you," Will sputtered, more disappointed than angry. "Why-why did you do that? I was so happy—"

"Is that so wrong?" Terri asked softly. "Wanting you to be happy?"

"No," Will admitted. "But only if you use the right means to get there."

"With everything that's been happening lately, I thought it would help us," Terri mused, looking and sounding small and defeated.

Will crawled into the bed next to her. He put his hands behind his head and lay on his back, looking up at the blank ceiling for an answer that wasn't there. For a few long moments, they were quiet.

"Lying to me won't fix anything."

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Will."

"You know, I'm not really sure that you are."

He left her alone, and she didn't try to stop him. He walked down the stairs heavily.

"Is everything all right?" his parents asked solicitously.

Will hesitated. He couldn't lie to his parents like she had to him. He smiled crookedly, gazing upon the cruel bottle of celebratory wine that beckoned to him from the island.

"No," he murmured. "No, not really."

* * *

  
Emma had been sitting in Ken's dark apartment for a half hour when she finally admitted to herself that Will wasn't coming. She had known it long ago, but now she was officially giving up. Ken had been gone for a few minutes, rummaging in his refrigerator for who-knew-what. When he returned, he was surprisingly empty-handed.

"I should be going," she murmured, not meeting Ken's gaze as she stood up from the couch.

"All right." She disliked how disappointed he looked, but… it was nice to get attention for once, even if it was the wrong kind from the wrong person. "I had a nice time tonight, Emma. I hope you did, too."

As he leaned in, she closed her eyes, pretending that he was someone else.

He kissed her roughly. It was exceedingly unpleasant. (It wasn't as though she would know; in truth, she had never been kissed before.) He tasted strange, and it wasn't until his tongue slipped into her mouth that she knew why.

"Oh my God, you're _high_," she hissed, jerking away.

She couldn't believe she hadn't seen it – the eyes bloodshot under their perpetual glaze, his hair and clothing even more tousled than usual, his pervasive halitosis, and over-all over-eagerness.

"Emma? I'm sorry," he called out behind her as she scrambled away.

Even in a pencil skirt and heels, she ran all the way to her car in the parking lot.

Never before had she felt this dirty.

* * *

  
Finn and Quinn were necking on the couch, but he wasn't feeling as thrilled about it as he usually did. His eyes were open and he was looking at the painting of Jesus, which seemed to be staring at him in disapproval. Even though Quinn was practically on top of him, and she was still in her Cheerios uniform, and her lips were on his and his hand was roaming down her back and her hand was on his chest… it just felt wrong.

About five minutes into it, Quinn sat up and gazed at him solemnly. "What's wrong?"

Finn looked away, panting slightly as he tried to collect his thoughts. What was happening to him? What _was_ wrong? Like he knew.

The doorbell rang, to his relief, before he could answer.

"Someone's at the door," he mentioned dumbly.

Huffing, Quinn hopped off of his lap and went to answer the door.

"Puck? What are you doing here?" she chirped. "Come on in."

Finn had also risen – if it had been Quinn's father, the local pastor, he would have been dead – but was surprised by who the visitor was.

"Puck?... What _are_ you doing here?"

Puck's face was perfectly blank, and his hands were shoved in his pockets. One glance at Quinn told him everything. Finn hadn't even had to ask. But instead of being disappointed, he felt strangely freed.

He strode out the door, not looking back.

* * *

Two Weeks Later

*

"We did it! We actually did it!" Rachel shrieked.

"We won," Artie mumbled, for the hundredth time.

Finn was quiet as he scanned the audience. Sure enough, his mom was there, in the second to last row, waving ecstatically. He waved back, grinning ear to ear.

"One down, eight to go," he commented, turning back to his friends.

"And we're gonna win 'em all," Mercedes promised, giving Tina a high-five.

Kurt rolled his eyes in response. "Obviously."

Will Schuester leapt from his seat, pushing through the crowd – Terri, Emma, Ken, Figgins, even Sue – to get to his kids. Everything else was behind him, if only for a moment, as he laid eyes on one of the biggest, shiniest trophies he had ever seen being presented to his charges.

Giving hugs and high fives all around, they took their photos and posed and looked happy. When all of the obligatory post-win rituals were through, Will gathered the group up for a "talk".

"All right, kids. That was good for beating Walnut, but that's not enough to take on Carmel. We've got to get better."

They looked at him and nodded gravely. He knew they would, too. That's why, for now, he didn't tell them how proud he was of them. He didn't tell them that he lied. That was the best he had seen in years.

But they trusted him to do what was best. And he trusted them.

* * *

_But the truth was, there couldn't be anything more real._

_And that's why they loved it._


End file.
